The Newest New Direction
by Nicole Renee
Summary: Blaine's transfer to McKinley. Not likely to happen this way, but I wrote it a while ago, and I hope you like it anyway.


The Newest New Direction

"I didn't realize it was possible for one meal to take _six_ hours to make," said Burt. He'd just come downstairs after showering and getting dressed to relive his son of "stirring duties4" so that Kurt could go upstairs to start getting ready. "Thanksgiving doesn't even take this much effort."

"It's not one meal, dad," said Kurt in an impatient manic tone. "It's a six course supper, not including the chocolate soufflé for desert." Kurt had been in the kitchen since 11:00am preparing. Blaine's parents were coming over this evening to meet Burt and Carol for the first time, and Kurt wanted everything to be perfect. "Now," he said, turning to face his father wearing such a serious expression, one might have expected him to have been explaining how to disarm a bomb, "this needs to be stirred continuously, _just_ the _way_ I showed you." Kurt reluctantly handed Burt the handle of the whisk, and stayed to watch his father begin the figure eight motion through the pot's simmering contents.

"Will you calm down, and go get ready? I don't know why you're nervous. Everyone loves Carol, and I am always the life of every party."

"Dad," said Kurt, looking even more on edge than he had a moment ago, "promise me you will not try and be _funny_ tonight."

"What are you talkin' about? I don't have to try; I'm a riot."

"Dad!" cried Kurt in protest, looking panic stricken. "Blaine's parents have a different sense of humor than you do. Fart jokes aren't really their thing."

"Relax; I'm only yankin' your chain." He stopped stirring for a moment and moved toward the fridge to fetch himself a beer.

"Dad!" Kurt exclaimed, grasping the whisk handle and resuming the figure eight motions.

"What's wrong?" asked Blaine as he appeared in the kitchen doorway. He was wearing a black blazer, similar to the navy one that was the best part of the Dalton Academy uniform in Kurt's opinion. He paired it with a light blue collared shirt, kaki slacks, and freshly shined dress shoes.

"Ah," sighed Kurt with obvious relief. "My knight in shinning armor has arrived just on time. Or should I say, my knight in J. Crew."

"Hey there Kiddo," said Burt.

"Hey," answered Blaine with a warm smile.

"Can you please stir this so I can go upstairs and get ready without having heart palpitations?" Blaine smiled as he took the whisk handle from Kurt.

"Sure thing," said Blaine with a laugh.

"Figure eights," he commanded, "and if it starts to get too frothy on the top, turn it down a notch. I'll be down in ten." Burt rolled his eyes at the idea of Kurt only taking ten minutes to get ready, and Blaine pressed his lips together to keep from letting on that he agreed with Burt's assessment of the comment. Blaine reached up to steal a quick kiss on Kurt's cheek before his spritely boyfriend launched himself toward the kitchen doorway. He appeared a fraction of a second later, clinging to the doorframe as if a giant magnet was pulling him toward his waiting toiletries. "What time are you're parents getting here?" he asked at an auctioneer's pace.

"My mom said they would be here at seven, as planned. You have plenty of time," reassured Blaine.

Seven o'clock arrived, and Kurt and Blaine were putting the finishing touches on the hors d'oeuvres. Kurt whipped his hand vigorously on the apron he'd placed over his ensemble: black fitted pants and plumb button up collard shirt. He'd added a plain skinny black tie, and chose to let his pant legs fall over the tops of his black high top laced up doc Martin boots, something he never did. Blaine could tell that Kurt had made an effort to scale back his usual manner of dress to something a little less 'loud,' and he appreciated the gesture; though it was discomforting to him that Kurt had felt the need. At seven-o-three, the door bell chimed in the front hall. Kurt was practically twitching with nerves as Burt left to answer the door.

"Hello, Mrs. Anderson," said Burt in a friendly tone. Blaine's mother's reply was softer, and couldn't be heard in the kitchen. There was silence for a moment after the boys heard the front door being shut. "Where's Mr. Anderson?" Blaine's head shot up at the question, and he left the kitchen quickly to investigate, Kurt trailing behind him.

"Mom?"

"Hi sweetie," she replied, as if she hadn't heard the implied question in Blaine's greeting. "Whatever is cooking smells divine," she added in Kurt's direction.

"Where's dad?" Blaine asked. She looked as though she'd been hoping he hadn't noticed she was alone.

"He got called into work," she said.

"On a Saturday night?" Blaine asked, incredulous.

"There was an emergency," she said. "It couldn't be avoided." Her tone was mechanical, and the pathetic nature of her excuse was apparent in the silence that followed. Blaine's disappointment was clear on his face for only a moment before he changed his expression to one of forced neutrality. Carol, who had left the living room to follow Burt to the door, asked Mrs. Anderson if she would like a drink when the silence became too uncomfortable to stand. Mrs. Anderson gratefully accepted Carol's offer. Burt briefly made eye contact with Kurt before following the women.

"We should go finish dinner," Blaine suggested, and he made his way back to the kitchen without waiting for a response. Kurt didn't protest.

Mr. Shuster wrote the words "Singing Telegram" on the white board. Clearly, he'd been inspired by Coach Sylvester's latest Cheerio's fundraiser, which had several of McKinley's cheerleaders interrupting lessons to give musical renditions of messages that students could send to one another for a fee. Sue had sent Will one just yesterday titled "shopping list." The list consisted of various household items that could be used in place of hair gel as needed.

"We all know that a song can be a great way of helping us express the things inside us that are most difficult."

"Singing Telegrams aren't songs, Mr. Schu," said Kurt. "They're just the theatrical version of a tweet."

"You're right, but they did give me an idea for this week's song assignment. When I was in high school, I had a crush on this girl,"

"You mean your ex-wife," said Santana without restraint.

"Ah, no," he replied.  
>"April Rhodes," suggested Mercedes.<p>

"No," Mr. Shuster said again, clearly embarrassed by how much his students knew about his personal life. "Anyway, I had a really hard time talking to her. Every time I'd try, my words would get all jumbled up, and I'd end up asking her a stupid question about nothing in particular, and walking away mortified. So, I decided that I would find another way of expressing my feelings."

"Please don't tell me you sent her a singing telegram?" asked Rachel, looking revolted. She'd been sent several highly unpleasant anonymous telegrams, and she was therefore less than thrilled about the current topic of discussion.

"No. I wrote her a letter."

"I'm still not following how this translates into an assignment for Glee club, Mr. Schu," said Finn.

"A song is often a kind of a musical letter; words put to melody to communicate our feelings to another person. A great performance is about expressing emotion, and if we think about a song this way, it may make it easier for us to tap into those parts of ourselves we need to and become better artists. So, this week's assignment is to find a song that is your letter to someone, and when you sing it, it will be like you're mailing it to them. It can be for anyone who is or has ever been important to you for any reason. You don't have to tell any of us who they are, or why you chose a certain song, but try and think of something important that you would like to tell them, and find the song that best says everything you want to say." The kids nodded in appreciation, and got to work to find the perfect song.

Kurt scanned the line of other caffeine junkies waiting for their fix, but Blaine was not there. Warblers practice sometimes ran later than New Direction's practices, so it was a crapshoot as to who arrived first for their afternoon coffee _randevú_**.** He was anxious to see him. Blaine had put on a good show during the dinner on Saturday, but he had been distracted and quiet all day on Sunday. Kurt was certain his father's failure to appear was the cause of his distress.

Kurt had spent a good part of their summer together coming to the realization that Blaine's dad did not view the world through the same eyes as his own father. He'd always been friendly enough on the rare occasions that he and Mr. Anderson had interacted, but it was clear that he became instantly uncomfortable when Kurt was around, or even at something as simple as Blaine uttering a phrase beginning with the words 'Kurt and I.' Kurt had made an effort to marginally tone down his usually vibrant personality when Mr. Anderson was present, but it didn't seem to have any affect.

Kurt and Blaine had spent most of their summer downtime at Kurt's house rather than Blaine's, either playing scrabble with Burt and Carol, or watching a movie marathon on TV. Well, mostly watching. Kurt had been very touched when Burt had officially extended an open invitation to Blaine for Friday night dinners, and he had been present at their table every week since. The contrast between the two fathers could not be denied, and Kurt was more worried than ever that his relationship with Blaine was putting a strain on his relationship with his dad, but he had no idea how to fix the problem.

Kurt moved to stand in line and place their order, but noticed a familiar head of dark curls out of the corner of his eye. Blaine was sitting at a table in the far corner, not near their usual spot closer to the windows, with his back turned.

"Hey," said Kurt, taking the empty chair across the small round table. "Did you already order?" It was a stupid question. He could see that Blaine had no coffee in front of him, but he'd asked without thinking.

"No, I'm not really thirsty," said Blaine, wearing the same neutral expression he'd worn on Saturday night.

"What's wrong?" he asked, immediately noticing the look in Blaine's eyes.

"Oh, I, uh, I got some bad news last night." Kurt waited with mounting concern. Clearly, Blaine was working hard to not let on how upset he was about whatever "news" he'd received, and the fact that he was downplaying his emotions worried Kurt more than if Blaine had tail spun into a fully fledged rant. "My parents are, uh," Blaine's voice caught in his throat, and he paused to clear it. "They're getting a divorce," he finally got out.

"What?" Kurt cried, shock setting in. "What happened?" he said words with slow uncertainty.

"I came home last night, and my dad had his bags packed by the door. They told me what they'd decided, and…" he trailed off, looking out into the empty air around the booth with out really seeing it. "He left," said Blaine with a shrug.

"I'm so sorry, Blaine," said Kurt, consolingly. Kurt had absolutely no idea what else to say. Blaine's eyes now seemed fixed on the foe-wood grain pattern of their table. He wanted to reach out to him, but Blaine's arms were crossed over his chest. "Do you want to talk about it?" he asked after a long moment of silence.

"No," said Blaine. His tone wasn't cold. It was defeated. "I just can't even think right now," said Blaine. He looked like he hadn't slept at all. Kurt was beginning to feel hopeless when Blaine still didn't so much as look at him. "I have to go," Blaine said suddenly, standing up.

"Wait," Kurt stretched out his hand to place it over Blaine's hand as he finally unlocked his arms and placed it on the table to push up from his chair, but he moved it from the table before Kurt could reach him.

"I should get home. I'll call you, okay?" Blaine moved quickly toward the door without kissing Kurt goodbye as he always did, clearly in a hurry to leave. He wondered if Blaine was in a rush because he didn't want to break down in public, or in front of Kurt. The thought was unbearable. Kurt sat for a long time before leaving, searching for the answers that did not exist.

Kurt walked out the front doors of McKinley arm in arm with Mercedes on Wednesday afternoon. He looked up to see Blaine leaning against a stair railing, waiting for him. Blaine hadn't mentioned anything about picking him up today, but then again he'd barley said anything over the past two days since he'd rushed away from the coffee shop. Their _before bed_ phone calls had consisted entirely of Kurt attempting fruitlessly to have a conversation, and Blaine saying he was tired after exactly three minutes, which was, ironically enough, the same time Kurt would ask Blaine how he was doing. He wanted nothing more than to help Blaine, but the only possible thing he could do for him was listen, and Blaine didn't seem ready to talk yet. Kurt hoped that this impromptu meeting meant that he was finally ready to talk about what was happening.

"Hey you," said Mercedes in even more of a kind tone than usual for her, steering Kurt forward.

"Hey back," said Blaine. "I caught the bus. I thought I'd surprise you since I haven't been around much the past few days." Blaine said in reply to the questioning look on Kurt's face. The forced pleasantness covered him from head to toe, but didn't quite mask the pain going on under the surface. Was that also a trace of _fear_ in Blaine's eyes? It made Kurt's heart ache to watch. There was silence for a few long seconds. Mercedes let go of Kurt's arm.

"Well, I've got to get home and start on my English comp assignment," she said, and waived goodbye. "See you later."

"Bye," said Kurt.

"You want to walk home?" Blaine asked. It was still near summerlike temperatures, despite being well into September.

"Sure," he said. Blaine's arm slid into place, occupying the space where Mercedes's had been, and they began to walk down the street in the direction of Kurt's house. Though they were touching now, their closeness brought little comfort to Kurt, because it wasn't the kind of closeness he was interested in at the moment. Kurt wanted Blaine to open up to him, to let Kurt be there for him the way that Blaine always had been for him.

"How are you?" Kurt asked after they'd been walking for a while.

"I'm fine," Blaine said. It was one thing to put on a show for Mercedes, but they were alone now, and Kurt was not going to let Blaine put on airs for him.

"No your not," he said, keeping his tone matter of fact. He did not want to sound accusatory, but he would not pretend either. Blaine said nothing. He looked uncomfortable. "You can talk to me, you know?" Kurt continued. Kurt knew that there was no way Blaine could be as fine as he was acting, and it was Kurt's job to be there for him through the difficult times. He didn't want to push, but he thought maybe Blaine needed a little nudge to get him started.

"Okay," Blaine conceded. "So, I'm not the best I've ever been, but I'll be alright." Blaine nodded in agreement with his own reassurance. It was so strange, having something so clearly unsaid between them. They'd always been able to speak freely and honestly with one another since practically the moment they'd first met, but this time it was different. Was it because it was now Blaine who needed the support and guidance, rather than Kurt? Blaine was always the first to volunteer his help, but now when he was the one in need, Blaine wasn't letting Kurt in. Kurt was getting more worried with each stride that Blaine might try and repress his feelings all together rather than deal with them, and that never ended well. Kurt sighed, and tried another tactic.

"Did you stay home from school?" Kurt asked, tugging lightly on the sleeve of Blaine's tee-shirt after noticing for the first time that Blaine was not in his uniform. He'd been so fixated by the worrisome expressions on Blaine's face.

"Yeah," said Blaine, looking even gloomier still.

"That's okay," Kurt said, in what he hoped was a comforting tone. "You should take some time away if you need it."

"It doesn't really matter anymore," said Blaine. Kurt was completely thrown off by Blaine's response. They walked several paces before Blaine spoke again. "I'm going back to Westerville Central," he said. There was silence for several more seconds as Blaine's words sank in.

"I don't understand," was all that Kurt could come up with.

"I just finishing talking it over with my mom before I came over. Between the mortgage on the house, rent on a place for my dad, and legal expenses, Dalton just isn't an option anymore. I'll be transferring the end of next week." Blaine began to chew the inside of his lip, a habit he only resorted to on the rare occasions that he was anxious. Now Kurt understood the reason he'd thought there'd been fear in Blaine's eyes. Because Blaine _was_ scared, and he had every reason to be if he was suddenly facing the prospect of having to return to the high school hell he'd been driven from more than two years ago.

"This can't happen," Kurt stopped walking abruptly, and had to work hard to control the volume in his voice. "What about a scholarship?" he suggested.

"The school year started weeks ago. All the scholarships are gone, and I'd need practically a full ride at this point to keep from depleting my college fund."

"You're a senior, shouldn't you take precedent?" Kurt had to work hard to control the volume in his voice.

"Money," Blaine said again, smiling in a wholly discomforting sort of way, "is the only thing that takes precedent." Blaine sighed. "Besides, my mom has already tried appealing to the dean, and the board. They told her they were very sorry, but they just couldn't afford to change my financial status and offer assistance. She did everything she could, but there's no way around it. I don't want my mom to be worrying about me right now, so can we please just drop it."

"You and I will apply for another scholarship somewhere else, then," Kurt said in a desperate tone. "You have near perfect grades. _Every_ school should want you. There has to be something we can do!" He clung to the idea like a drowning man to a piece of driftwood, but Blaine's expression remained hopeless. Kurt hated the dead look that had settled into Blaine's usually vibrant eyes. It was total surrender.

"There isn't," Blaine replied. "My only options are to go back, or to drop out and join a traveling circus." Blaine tone made it clear he wasn't serious about the second option. Still, neither scenario was in any way acceptable as far as he was concerned.

"Come to McKinley," Kurt burst out. Blaine shook his head.

"I can't go to McKinley unless I live in the right school district."

"Blaine, how are you just supposed to go back there?" asked Kurt.

"You did," Blaine replied, turning to face him. "And you can't honestly say that you regret it."

"No, but-"

"It's going to be fine," Blaine interrupted Kurt's unfinished response. He seemed to be saying it as much to himself as he was to Kurt, but Kurt would not give up so easily.

"This can't happen," Kurt repeated, determinedly. He remembered the horror stories Blaine had shared with him about the days before he'd transferred to Dalton. Reliving those nightmares was one of the many ways Blaine had helped Kurt through his similar troubles last year. Only unlike Blaine, Kurt had always had friends he could rely on; friends who had banded together to defend him when things had got really bad. Even now, the New Directions and having Blaine were the only reasons Kurt got through his days with a smile rather than a grimace. David Karofsky may have turned from foe to friend, but there were still plenty of other students who went out of their way to make him feel like an outsider. From what Blaine had told him, he'd had to go through everything practically alone. It was bad enough that Blaine had to suffer through the end of his parents' marriage, but that was something that couldn't be changed. This could. There had to be a way to fix this.

"It _is_ happening, and I can spend my time being miserable, or I can make the best of whatever situation I'm in. This is just me making the best of it." Kurt couldn't help but look incredulous. "I've always told you how much I hated that I let myself be chased away by bullies and homophobic jerks. Well, now I have a chance to change that." Kurt felt a sharp pain in his chest as Blaine replaced his expression of fake bravado with a genuinely brave face. It was the same face Kurt had adopted every time he'd had to walk through the hallways earlier last year, wondering if he would be getting anymore death threats before third period. Blaine took Kurt's hand in his. Kurt's face remained resolute. "If I could change anything about this situation, I would, but…" Blaine's voice trailed off, and he shrugged.

"We should talk about this. We'll figure something out, _together_." Kurt put emphasis on the last word, and he hoped Blaine would look at him and nod in agreement. He didn't.

"There's nothing left to figure out," he said, tacking on a smile so forced it looked physically painful. He sighed when Kurt did not change his resolute stance. "Look," he said in a placating tone, "I appreciate you're indigence on my behalf, but indigence doesn't change anything."

"Fine," he said, letting defeat color his voice too. He decided that he wasn't going to get anywhere today. "We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to." Kurt began to walk toward his house again, and Blaine kept pace beside him. They walked in silence for a while before Blaine slipped his arm back into its rightful place, looking relieved. Kurt felt the heat from Blaine's skin radiating through his shirt sleeve. He couldn't understand why it was easy for Blaine to seek the comfort of Kurt's touch, but so hard to let Kurt help him where it really counted. Well, Kurt loved him too much to just let this go. Blaine may not be looking for a champion to fight for him, especially since surrender seemed to be his endgame, but that didn't mean Kurt would not fight for him on his own.

The next day, Kurt asked Mr. Schuster if he could go first, as he'd found the perfect song to sing for this week's assignment last night while brooding over what to do about Blaine. He stood before the group with a somber expression. A flourish of piano music filled the room, which was joined by the sound of his carefully chosen words. Kurt imagined Blaine sitting before him, taking in every chord and verse, and knowing at last that there was nothing Kurt would not do for him.

When the rain is blowing in your face  
>And the whole world is on your case<br>I could offer you a warm embrace  
>To make you feel my love.<p>

When the evening shadows and the stars appear  
>And there is no one there to dry your tears<br>I could hold you for a million years  
>To make you feel my love.<p>

I know you haven't made your mind up yet  
>But I would never do you wrong.<br>I've known it from the moment that we met  
>No doubt in my mind where you belong.<p>

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue  
>I'd go crawling down the avenue<br>No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do  
>To make you feel my love<p>

The storms are raging on the rolling sea  
>And on the highway of regret<br>The winds of change are throwing wild and free  
>You ain't seen nothing like me yet<p>

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true  
>Nothing that I wouldn't do<br>Go to the ends of the Earth for you  
>To make you feel my love<p>

To make you feel my love

When Kurt had finished, he let his eyelids shut over his sky blue irises, and the tears that had collected washed down both of his cheeks.

"Excuse me," Kurt said suddenly, and he exited the claustrophobic choir room without explanation.

"Should I maybe…?" asked Finn.

"Let me," said Mercedes.

She spent five minutes searching before she found him sitting on the top step of a stairwell. He was quiet for a long while after she had taken a seat next to him, starring vacantly toward the descending empty space before him.

"The man I love is in trouble, and I have no idea how to help him." Kurt said, breaking the silence. He looked at Mercedes, whose expression somehow reminded him of his mother. "His parents are getting divorced, and as if that isn't enough, he's supposed to go back to the school where he not only faced constant verbal abuse and humiliation, but where he was _physically assaulted_. One of those animals is still there," he spoke the last sentence through clenched teeth.

"It isn't fair," replied Mercedes.

"This isn't just unfair, it's infuriating!" Kurt cried, his voice echoing loudly as it traveled down the steps.

"I know," she replied calmly. Kurt took a moment to regain some sense of composure, and Mercedes waited patiently.

"It's senior year," he said finally. "This is the time when we're supposed to be making some of the best memories of our lives. Instead, he's going to spend his last year of high school with his eyes on the floor, striving to go unnoticed, because the alternative is so much worse than loneliness." Mercedes placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder as Kurt fought to keep more tears from reaching his eyes.

"Whenever I have a problem that seems impossible, I pray for help to find the answers I'm looking for," she said. Kurt sighed, and looked at her with defeated expression. "I know you're not the praying type," she continued, smiling warmly, "but there is one prayer I've know since I was a little girl that has always helped me."

"At this point, I'll try anything," he said.

"Have you ever heard of the serenity prayer?" she asked.

"Sure. I think my grandmother has it printed on a throw pillow," Kurt said. "But I don't remember it word for word."

"It says 'God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change.'" Kurt let out an exasperated sound and buried his face in his knees. "Let me finish," she protested. Kurt turned his face without lifting his head and looked at her. "'God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I can not change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.'" Kurt's heart faltered slightly at the word 'courage,' and he felt for a moment more hopeless than ever as he faced the possibility that after all Blaine had done for him, Kurt would not be able to help him in return.

"I know it may not seem like much, but that prayer has always given me the guidance I need to put the hard things in life into perspective." Kurt's head shot up before Mercedes had completed her sentence.

"What did you say?" he said, with a sudden manic expression covering his features.

"I said, that prayer has always given me the guidance to-"

"I just got an idea," he said, cutting her off as he sprang to his feet and began sprinting down the hallway. "Thank you!" he cried loudly behind him.

"Uh, _you're welcome_?" she replied softly as Kurt's figure disappeared from sight.

Blaine walked into the McKinley choir room at just after four o'clock on Friday afternoon. He'd received a text from Kurt around lunch time text to meet him here after glee practice today rather than the Lima Bean. His eyes found Kurt sitting in a chair in the front row, but he was surprised to see his boyfriend wasn't alone. A pretty doe-eyed redheaded woman stood next to him. They both turned to face him as he approached.

"What's going on?" Blaine asked.

"Blaine, this is Ms. Pillsbury," Kurt said. The kind-faced woman reached out a pale hand and smiled warmly as she shook Blaine's. "She's the McKinley guidance counselor," Kurt explained. Blaine's frame became ridged.

"Ah, Kurt," Blaine said tensely, "I know you want to help, but, I really don't want to have a therapy session right now."

"No, no," said Ms. Pillsbury. "I'm not a therapist, though that is a common misconception," Emma laughed in a nervous sort of way, and cleared her throat before she continued. "Actually, I wanted to have a talk with you about your future." She extended a hand toward the empty chair to Kurt's right, inviting him to sit. He did, and she took a seat in Mr. Shuster's chair in front of them. "Kurt told me about your, ah, _situation_, and I think there is something I can do to help." Blaine looked at Kurt wonderingly, too cautious to hope. Kurt smiled reassuringly.

"How?" Blaine asked.

"Have you ever heard of something called a geographical exception?" she asked him. Blaine shook his head. "Well, when a public school can't provide a particular student living within their school district with something that is vitally important to their educational wellbeing, a geographical exception can be made so that student can attend another school capable of meeting their needs." Blaine's eyes widened. "In your case, Westerville Central doesn't have a strong arts program, and there are no music related extra curricular activities other than marching band. So, attending to a school like Westerville would certainly be considered a detriment to the education of such a gifted student as yourself. McKinley, on the other hand, has a great music program, with a jazz band, an orchestra, and as you know, a pretty terrific glee club. So, I made a couple of phone calls to the school board this morning, and I spoke with the Principle at Westerville along with Principle Figgins here." Ms. Pillsbury smiled at Blaine's awe filled expression. "As long as your parents sign off on it, you can enroll as soon Monday." Kurt placed his hand over Blaine's, which was clutching the lip of his chair so tightly, his knuckles were white. "There will be a lot of paper work to fill out to insure that the taxes are correctly appropriated, something Principle Figgins will want to oversee that to insure accuracy." Ms. Pillsbury had to restrain herself from rolling her eyes. Blaine was speechless as Ms. Pillsbury stood up and handed him a folder. "Here's all the information for your parents to look over. My office and cell phone numbers are at the top of the first page if they have any questions. They can call me, anytime, and we can set up a meeting to get everything together as soon as one of them is free." Ms. Pillsbury gave Blaine another warm smile, and Blaine managed a weak, "thank you," before she turned toward the door to leave. Kurt stood up to say goodbye, and surprised her with a tight hug.

"Thank you, again," Kurt said fervently.

"Any time," she replied, and left to two boys alone. Kurt sat back down, waiting for Blaine to say something, but he didn't seem able.

"Look, Blaine, I'm sorry if you're upset with me for interfering, and I know what you said about this being your chance to change a past regret, but can't you see how crazy that would-" Blaine cutoff his well rehearsed speech with a kiss. It was clear to Kurt that Blaine was attempting to express many things he could never find the words for with this kiss, and when they parted, Kurt's eyes told Blaine that he understood those things perfectly. Blaine let out a sigh of relief, as if some of the tension and stress of the past week was being expelled with the rush of his breath.

"I had no idea this was even an option," said Blaine while shaking his head, still baffled by the sudden turn of events. "How did you come up with this?"

"I asked for help," answered Kurt. He wasn't trying to make Blaine feel bad, but Blaine looked pensive all the same. "I was talking to Mercedes yesterday," Kurt explained further, "and I got the idea to come talk to Ms. Pillsbury. I needed to know if there was any way to get around the school district rule, and I knew she would be able to help me find it if there was. See, she has this ridiculous collection of pamphlets, it's sort of her thing, and I remembered seeing some from the Ohio Department of Education with titles like 'Your Education and You.' I figured, there have to be exceptions to every rule, especially if you make a big enough fuss and refuse to take no for an answer." Blaine seemed beyond words once again, shaking his head in wonder at the turn of events. Kurt waited until he looked up to meet his gaze before speaking again. "You know as well as I do that McKinley is far from perfect. We have bullies and homophobic jerks here just like at your old school, and some of them will likely go out of their way to be cruel to you. And, I can also almost guarantee you that you'll have to endure several slushy facials before graduation rolls around." Even though Kurt could still hear the pain just under the surface, Blaine's laughter sounded like a choir of angels to Kurt's ears after the many days it had been absent from his life. "But unlike at your old school, you'll still have music to help you get through all that. And, you already know pretty much everyone in New Directions, so you'll have friends willing to help you, even if it's just to help get the food coloring out of your cloths and hair." Kurt paused, and looked down at the floor as he spoke. "And, you'll have me," he said solemnly. "No matter what comes our way, you'll always have me. You don't ever have to be alone, Blaine." Blaine closed his eyes, letting the words surround him, protecting him like a warm blanket from a raging wind.

"I can't believe you did all this for me," said Blaine, sounding bewildered. He didn't receive the shy smile he'd expected from Kurt in response.

"Like you wouldn't do the same for me?" Kurt's replied to Blaine with a tight lipped frown on his face as he stared at his hands in his lap. Kurt turned to look Blaine in the eye. "From the moment I met you, Blaine, you have done nothing but help me. I was a stranger to you, and you reached out to me, without hesitation, to get me through one of the darkest times of my life. This was my chance to do that for you; to be your champion for a change."

"Well, you've certainly proven yourself to be my knight in shining armor this week," he said, adopting a playful tone. "Or Knight in Mac Jacobs," he corrected, nudging Kurt with his shoulder.

"It was my pleasure," said Kurt. His tone was not playful. "That's what you do when you love somebody," he continued. "You fix the things you can, and, when you can't…" his voice trailed off, and Blaine knew where they'd arrived. Blaine shifted uncomfortably in his seat. Kurt waited until Blaine had looked back up at him before he went on. "Blaine, I can't fix anything else for you. I'm all out of magic tricks. Now, all I can do for you is be here, but, I can't do that if you won't let me." Blaine looked up at the ceiling of the choir room, and let out a deep breath. "If you aren't ready to talk about your parents divorce, I understand, but _don't_ pretend that everything is okay, Blaine. Don't pretend that you're okay. Not for me. Please, don't push me away." The plea in Kurt's voice was apparent, and Blaine looked stricken.

"I don't want to push you away," said Blaine. All the lightness in his tone was gone. "I just…I haven't…" He was struggling, and Kurt reached out and covered Blaine's hand with his own. Blaine closed his eyes and took in a deep breath at Kurt's touch, as if he was summoning strength from it. "I've been acting like everything is okay because," he sucked in another deep breath, "because I haven't been ready to admit to myself that it's not. Partly because I have _no_ idea how to explain how I'm feeling right now, and partly because," Blaine paused, searching the empty air, "partly because I know that when I do find the words, and I say them out loud, it will all be real." Blaine looked closer to tears than he had from the moment this whole crisis and started. Kurt knew this was probably a good thing, healthier than keeping it bottled up, but it was like a physical wound for Kurt to watch all the same.

"You don't have to find those words today, Blaine," reassured Kurt. "When you are ready to talk, I'll be here to listen, but I'm here for you in whatever way you need me to be. We can just go for a walk, if you like, or we can sit here quietly, too."

"No, I am ready. I have to be. I need to get this out, because if I keep it all inside anymore, it's going to just eat away at me until there's nothing left." Kurt was alarmed by the harshness of Blaine's description. "I just don't know where to begin." Blaine buried his face in his hands, and ran his fingers over the top of his head in frustration.

"This week," began Kurt, "Mr. Schuster gave the glee club an assignment to find a song, and to sing it as a letter to someone. He asked us to think of something important that we wanted to tell that person, and then to find the song that best says everything we wanted to say."

"Wow, the only thing the counsel ever asked us to do was scan the most downloaded hits on iTunes for songs that could transition well into four-part harmony." Blaine laughed, but it was a hollow sound this time. "What song did you pick?" he asked.

"'Make you feel my love,' by Adele," said Kurt. Blaine stared into Kurt's eyes for a full five seconds before Kurt continued. "Maybe that's what you should do," suggested Kurt. "We both know how music can help us say the things we can't find any other way to express. Maybe there is a song out there that already has the words you're looking for."

Blaine stared without seeing, clearly thinking things through in his head. They sat in silence for a long while, the minutes ticking by, but Kurt did not betray any sense of impatience. He waited beside Blaine in the quiet, as he'd said he would.

"I know a song," said Blaine. He stood up, and moved toward the old wooden piano. Kurt followed him, and they sat beside one another on the bench. "It's to my dad," he said, as he lifted the lid and positioned his fingers. "I know he's not here to listen, but," Blaine shook his head and stared at the black and white keys as though they might reveal a secrete answer to his troubles.

"That's okay," said Kurt. "I'm here. I'm listening."

A sweet sorrowful melody flooded the air as Blaine applied pressure, and sang aloud the words he'd been avoiding for longer than even he'd realized.

As high as the moon  
>So high were my spirits<br>When you sang out my name  
>And coming from you<br>It was enough just to hear it  
>Oh, it rang like the bells did today<br>But even the sturdiest ground  
>Can shift and can tremble and let us fall down<p>

Kindly unspoken  
>You show your emotion<br>And silence speaks louder than words  
>It's lucky I'm clever<br>If I didn't know better  
>I'd believe only that which I'd heard<p>

In the days of my folly  
>I followed your lead<br>Did what Simon Said to do  
>But I won't let melancholy<br>Play me for a fool  
>Oh, no, I'm on my way somewhere new<br>And as far as your lack of something to say  
>Well, to tell me goodbye there was no better way<p>

Kindly unspoken  
>You show your emotion<br>And silence speaks louder than words  
>It's lucky I'm clever<br>If I didn't know better  
>I'd believe only that which I'd heard<p>

So don't keep me up till the dawn  
>With words that'll keep leading me on<br>I know much better than to wait for an answer from you

Kindly unspoken  
>You show your emotion<br>And silence speaks louder than words  
>It's lucky I'm clever<br>If I didn't know better  
>I'd believe only that which I'd heard<p>

Blaine turned to face his love, and rested his forehead against Kurt's while the final note hung poignantly in the air. When the boys leaned back from one another, Kurt took in Blaine's grief-stricken expression. His face looked aged in that moment. His eyes were a mirror image of a tired old man's; a man who'd fought through a lifetime of emotional heartache and had no strength left to fight any longer. Kurt used the pad of his thumb to wipe away a tear that had begun to slip down the side of Blaine's cheek, finally breaking through the walls Blaine had been attempting to build around his pain.

"When my parents told me that they were getting divorced, they said a lot of cliché things. Like 'this doesn't change how we feel about you,' and 'this has _nothing_ to do with you.'" Blaine looked like those phrases left a foul taste on his tongue as he repeated them now. "But the truth is, this has everything to do with me." Kurt's instinct was to protest, but he held back, waiting for Blaine to continue without interrupting. "Because, the truth is," Blaine paused and took in a deep breath in preparation, "my parents are getting a divorce because my dad can't accept that I'm gay, and my mom can't pretend not to see that anymore." He closed his eyes. "And neither can I," he admitted.

"Oh, Blaine," lamented Kurt. He clutched Blaine's shoulder, squeezing it tightly, hoping the pressure was comforting. Blaine reached up and clutched the top of Kurt's hand.

"Our relationship has always been a challenge," Blaine continued. It seemed that now he'd found the words to begin, more kept coming to him. "But we both tried hard to make it work. I tried to be the son he wanted me to be while still being true to who I am, and he tried to find common ground between us despite those parts of me he didn't understand. But then, somewhere along the way, he just…stopped trying." Blaine was unable to hold back any longer, and the tears flowed freely down the sides of his stricken face. Kurt felt as helpless as ever. "He's my dad," said Blaine with an audible catch in his voice, "isn't he supposed to love me, no matter what?"

"Yes," was Kurt's only reply. It was nothing but the truth, and it did not change a thing.

"We haven't even spoken since he left," said Blaine. "It's been nearly a week, and he hasn't even tried to get in touch with me. I keep hoping that he'll call, or that he'll _email_. That he'll give me just _one_ sign that I'm wrong about everything, and that he hasn't given up on me," Blaine brushed away the wetness from his face with the palms of his hands, "but there's only silence."

"I am so sorry, Blaine," Kurt began. He pulled Blaine into him, and Blaine rested his head in the hollow of Kurt's neck. "I'm sorry for you're pain, and for all your suffering. I wish I could take it all away." Kurt laid his cheek against the top of Blaine's head, and held him close, stroking Blaine's back with the palm of his hand. "I also feel sorry for him," said Kurt, after a while. Blaine lifted himself up to look at his boyfriend's face, wanting to be sure he'd heard right.

"What do you mean?" he asked, confused.

"Blaine, you are the most amazing person I've ever known. Everyone who is lucky enough to know you has a better life because you're in it. If your dad is missing out on all of that, then, I can't help but pity him." Kurt reached out his hand, and placed his palm against Blaine's cheek. "I hope one day, soon, he'll wake up and realize just how much he's given up, because you are too much for anyone to lose." Blaine leaned forward, and buried his face in Kurt's chest, crying steadily, letting the pain bleed out of him like he was expelling a poison. Kurt would have held him for the rest of his days. For a million years.

Kurt came home late. He'd stayed with Blaine for long time in the choir room, until he'd finally told Kurt that he had better go home so he could talk to his mom about transferring to McKinley. Kurt had gone with him. Blaine's mother had looked more than relived, like the news was a lone star in am otherwise pitch black sky. She'd hugged Kurt tightly when Blaine had told her it was he who'd figured it all out.

"I'm so glad he has you," she'd whispered in his ear in a choked voice. Kurt had wished he could take away her pain, too.

"Hey you," said Burt, appearing in the front hallway as Kurt locked the door behind him. "Where have you been? Dinner was supposed to be an hour ago."

"I was with Blaine," Kurt said wearily. Burt didn't ask for further explanation. Kurt felt drained from the day. Watching the people you love suffer is often more tiresome than experiencing it directly.

"How is he?"

"He'll be okay," said Kurt. He was certain of that, at least.

"Well, you be sure and tell him that if he needs anything, I'm here," Burt said with his usual unassuming tone. "He's a good kid," he added, looking nearly as concerned as he would have if he'd been referring to Kurt. Kurt looked at his father, and then rushed him with a surprise hug so forceful it knocked the wind out of Burt. "Whoa," he gasped.

"Thank you," said Kurt in a hushed tone.

"For what?" he asked, completely confused. Kurt's arms were still a vice around him.

"I just _really_ love you, dad."

"I really love you too, son."

"I know," Kurt said. The truth of his father's love was clearer to him today than it had ever been.

Blaine began his classes at McKinley mid-day on Monday, and on Tuesday afternoon, Blaine walked hand-in-hand with Kurt toward Blaine's first ever glee club meeting as the newest member of the New Directions. Kurt paused just as they were about to walk through the doorway, holding up a hand.

"You may want to think about this for a minute," he said, seriously. "You've gotten through nearly two days at McKinley unscathed, but the second that people see you walk through this door, that relative anonymity that has been slightly protecting you will be gone _forever_. From this moment on, you will be subject to all the shunning and ridicule reserved exclusively for members of this club. You may have been treated like royalty at Dalton, but at William McKinley High School, being in the glee club is worst than being in the A.V. club. We're at the bottom of the barrel around here. Are you prepared for that?" Kurt asked, arching his one eyebrow, a wicked smile spreading across his mouth.

"Bring it," said Blaine without hesitation. He'd apparently spoken too soon, as two towering figures in the form of Izimio and a fellow football crony appeared before them, each holding an all too familiar red and white cup.

"Hey there, Dancing Queen Hummel, Queen Hummel's boyfriend," said Izimio. His crony gave a low guttural chuckle. "About to join the singing rejects club?" asked Izimio of Blaine in a condescending tone one might use when speaking to preschoolers. Blaine gave nothing more than stone-faced stare in reply. Kurt was about to move in front of Blaine, but Blaine held fast to Kurt's hand, keeping him firmly at his side. "Well, let me be the first to give you the good ol' McKinley High glee club initiation," Izimio said, and the bullies both began to raise their cups threateningly.

The boys shut their eyes in preparation for the assault. They heard the expected splash moments later, but there was no brain freezing chill to accompany it. Suddenly, there were cries of pain filling the air, and the boys' eyes shot open to see the two hulking figures were drenched in red slushy. Santana and Brittany were standing on either side of them, clearly having taken it upon themselves to redirect the cups icy contents.

"Uh-oh," said Santana. "You appear to have dropped your slushies." She was wearing her sliest expression, not appearing the least bit intimidated by the boys who outweighed her by at least a hundred pounds.

"So sad," said Brit, shaking her head.

"You better move along befores I reports you to principle Figgins," Santana added, pointing at the beret atop her raven locks. "And I'd hurry; the red ones stain fast." The football players turned and hurried off in the other direction, looking furious and humiliated.

"Actually, it is sorta sad," said Brit, looking at the red liquid pooling out on the tile. "Cherry is my favorite flavor." Santana patted Brittney's shoulder in mock comfort.

"Thanks," said Blaine. "I was not looking forward to that."

"They'll get you eventually," conceded Santana, "but not today," she added with a wide tightlipped smile as she arched one long perfect eyebrow.

They walked through the doors to find the rest of the New Directions already there with purposeful looks on their faces.

"Hey guys," said Blaine to the room. Mr. Schuster was already standing in front of the white board. He waived in greeting at Blaine.

"Ready for your first ever _assignment for the week_?" asked Kurt in a sing-songy impersonation of Mr. Schuster.

"Not so fast," said Rachel, standing up.

"Oh, don't tell me you're going to try and make him audition, dwarf. We already know the kid's brilliant," Santana said as she took her usual seat.

"No," said Rachel, choosing to ignore Santana's customary jab. "I just thought before we get into this week's assignment, now would be a good time to finish up last week's." She gave everyone a significant look, and suddenly the room smiled at Rachel's suggestion. They stood up.

"What's going on?" asked Blaine, as they all filed out of the classroom.

"We're going to the auditorium," was all Kurt said.

Blaine trailed into the auditorium behind Kurt to find everyone already positioned on the stage. They were all looking at him. Kurt led Blaine up the stairs and positioned him in center stage.

"So, I _am_ auditioning?" Blaine asked.

"No," said Kurt. "You're listening."

"We know that you've been going through some stuff," said Finn, "and we also know that you're going to miss being at Dalton." Finn shrugged.

"But, we want you to know that we're really glad to have you, Blaine. We all already consider you one of us. We sorta have for a while now," said Mercedes, giving him a wink.

"And we take care of our own," said Santana. Brittany pumped her fist in the air in solidarity with Santana's comment.

"Last week, our assignment was to find a song meant to give someone an important message," said Rachel. Kurt took Blaine's hand in his and squeezed it once for comfort. "Well, this is a message for you, and it's from all of us."

"When did you guys arrange this?" he asked under his breath to Kurt, dumbfounded. "I just transferred _yesterday_."

"Remember right after school, when I said I'd meet you at the Lima Bean in a few hours because I had a project to work on with Finn for French that couldn't wait?"

"Yeah," said Blaine, understanding where this was going.

"He takes Spanish, sweetie."

"Right." He was embarrassed by all their stares being fixed on him this way. He was only used to being the center of attention when he commanded it with his voice. Then Kurt spoke again, and like it so often happened, everything else fell away, and it was as if it were only the two of them.

"I promised you that if you came to McKinley, you'd always know that no matter how bad things got, you're not alone," said Kurt. "You have so many people here who will always be there for you; people who will love you, no matter what."

A bubbly fanfare of music began to swell through the air, and Kurt took a few steps backwards to stand in his proper position. The New Directions swayed on the stage in harmony with the sound, and each other, and Blaine could hardly conceal how moved he was by their gesture, even before they'd begun to sing.

Finn: If you ever find yourself stuck in the middle of the sea  
>I'll sail the world to find you<p>

Rachel: If you ever find yourself lost in the dark and you can't see  
>I'll be the light to guide you<p>

Brittany: Find out what we're made of

Santana: When we are called to help our friends in need

All: You can count on me like 1 2 3

I'll be there  
>And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2<br>And you'll be there  
>Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah<br>Wooooh, Wooooh,  
>That's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah<br>You can count on me cause I can count on you  
>Wooooh, Wooooh<br>Yeah Yeah

Kurt stepped toward his boyfriend once more so that he could look into his eyes as he sang.

Kurt: If you toss and you turn and you just can't fall asleep  
>I'll sing a song beside you<br>And if you ever forget how much you really mean to me  
>Everyday I will remind you<p>

He took Blaine's hand and gave him a playful spin. Blaine laughed aloud, unable to help but let the lighthearted tune lighten his own heart.

Mercedes Ohh, find out what we're made of  
>When we are called to help our friends in need<p>

All: You can count on me like 1 2 3  
>I'll be there<br>And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2  
>And you'll be there<p>

Artie: Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah

All: Wooooh, Wooooh  
>Yeah Yeah<p>

Kurt: You'll always have my shoulder when you cry  
>I'll never let go, never say goodbye<p>

Blaine looked into Kurt's eyes, and knew the words he spoke were true. He would always have Kurt to help him through whatever life handed him. Knowing that, he felt as though he could overcome anything. Blaine began to dance around the stage with his love and his friends, his true friends, and he let their words fill him up with joy.

All: You can count on me like 1 2 3  
>I'll be there<br>And I know when I need it I can count on you like 4 3 2  
>And you'll be there<br>Cause that's what friends are supposed to do, oh yeah  
>Wooooh, Wooooh<br>You can count on me cause I can count on you

Songs in this fanfic

Adele "Make You Feel My Love"

Kate Voegele "Kindly Unspoken"

Bruno Mars "Count On Me"


End file.
